Phantom Pleasures
by XTsukimiOdangoX
Summary: Shuichi is on a tour with Bad Luck, and the lack of his presence is starting to get to Eiri. Yaoi


**Author's Notes: **I was talking with the lovely Aira-sama and we decided that we both wanted to write a lemon. I started writing one, but I don't think I quite like it. Then, as I woke up this morning, I came up with this idea. ^_^ I hope it pleases you all.

**Phantom Pleasures**

            Yuki Eiri stepped one cautious foot into the ceramic bathtub. The cool surface beneath his sore feet caused the writer to emanate a soft purr. He wriggled his cramped toes momentarily until the cooling affect of the tub began to warm from his body heat. He puckered his lips in slight disappointment, but brushed it aside. He seemed to be living off of momentary pleasures these past few weeks.

            Closing the glass shower door behind his naked form, Eiri's mind began to drift to his pink-haired lover. His actions of reaching out for the nozzle to turn the water were barely done consciously. Every little thing for the past… seventeen days now, was it? Yes, everything in these past seventeen days was done purely on mechanical instinct. For Eiri's mind was too far gone in a lonely daydream to administer attention to anything else.

            He adjusted the heat of the water pouring down on him a daze, barely leaving any cold water left to seep through. The hot wash trickled against his bare torso and left rivulets of water running down the insides of his legs. The novelist's skin reddened at the constant pulsing of the shower head and the heated water that fell from it. But Eiri merely stood there, the fog building up from the high temperature only furthering his dream like state. 

            Seventeen days. It had been seventeen days since one Shindou Shuichi, lead singer of Bad Luck, had left on tour. It had been seventeen days since he had packed his bags and waved a tootle-de-doo. It had been seventeen days since Eiri could run his fingers through that mess of pink hair, or kiss those equally pink lips.

            And worst of all, it had been seventeen day's since Yuki Eiri had gotten laid.

            The wet, golden beauty felt a frown tug at his lips. He had figured life would be more manageable without the hyperactive singer around. Surely the author would be able to get some work done without having to entertain the boy, which would mean that pulling all-nighters wouldn't be as common. He would finally be able to get some well deserved rest and relaxation.

            Sighing, Eiri closed his amber eyes and turned in the tub. His flesh was beginning to ache from the constant pounding of the waterfall upon him. He mewled softly when the water proceeded to pelt at his sensitive back. There, much better…

            The blonde hung his head, letting his chin rest on his chest. Wet honey tresses fell to brush over his closed eyes. He took a slow, tired breath and held it for a moment. Letting said breath go was a thought alone that conjured too much energy.

            Oh, how wrong Yuki Eiri had been when he surmised that these seventeen days would go by smoothly. There was nothing smooth, or even remotely so, about them. 

            And he was actually missing the pink-coifed brat.

            Eiri was never one to express his emotions freely, which all knew, and few questioned. Even admitting such emotions to himself seemed to be a straining task for the stoic writer. However, he found ignorance asinine, and therefore didn't fully appreciate the amount of energy it took for him to hide things from his own mind. Or heart, for that matter. 

            On day one Eiri had barely even registered that the boy was gone. It had been a normal day, considering Shuichi would have been at work till the evening anyway. Day two, however, was a little bit more unnerving in the fact that Eiri's meals (how few they were) had to be eaten alone. By day three, he was beginning to enjoy the freedom of smoking and drinking whenever he saw fit, without the singer giving him grief. And by day four Eiri was miserable. Cigarettes and booze were no replacement for one Shindou Shuichi.

            So, after day five of Bad Luck's tour, the novelist finally confessed to himself that he somewhat missed the boy. The second he complied with letting his heart and head have a meeting on the situation, the emotions were flooding through him like a god damn tsunami.

            He missed Shuichi's smile, that was for sure. That quirky grin of his seemed to be the only thing that brought light to the minimalistic apartment the two men shared. Eiri even felt himself being infected by that smile sometimes, which he declared within the first few months of knowing the boy. Shuichi's smile had only widened.

            Eiri also missed the singer's words. It had become natural for the amber-eyed man to tense when Shuichi came running into his office, pouncing like never before, and crying "I'm home, Yuki!" in that wonderful tenor. It had become a soothing comfort to hear Shuichi's little decrees of "I love you", or "you mean the world to me", or "you're beautiful". There were some days Eiri thought he was drunk off those words.

            Slowly, the writer began to realize that he wasn't just missing Shuichi's words, but the vocalist's voice in general. Hell, he even missed hearing his energetic paramour belt out Nittle Grasper songs in the shower, or fiddle with his synthesizer as he hummed out Bad Luck's newest tunes. The lyrics were crap, of course, and that was one thing Eiri would never go back on. But the tunes… the tunes were, he supposed, pretty good. And the notion of being someone outside NG Studios to get to hear those little harmonies before they hit the shelves actually filled the older man with a twinge of pride.

            Eiri's yellow-ochre eyes fluttered back into view. He lifted his head from off his chest, wincing softly at the crick in his neck he had created. The misty shower stung his eyes as if reminding him that no matter how much he thought of Shuichi, the boy wasn't there, and wouldn't be for another six days. Eiri sighed heavily.

            On day six Eiri had come up with an idea for the ending of his current book, so he had worked the whole day away. Majority of day seven was also used to write, and complete, the aforementioned plot line. Day eight was wasted in a catatonic state from Eiri's all nighter. When he awoke on the ninth day the writer had to re-remind himself that Shuichi was gone. Days ten, eleven, twelve, and thirteen were all spent in drunken stupors and fitful slumbers. Finally on day fourteen Eiri couldn't take anymore of the sexual frustrations and masturbated first thing in the damn morning. He considered picking up a girl on day fifteen, but the thought was quickly dismissed when he walked by a billboard of Bad Luck that hung nearby the bar he was headed to. On day sixteen he slept, drank, smoked, and wallowed in self-misery.

            And on every single day he hated it.

            The writer twisted back around so that the front of his body was in line with the shower head. His fingers reached languorously for the temperature nozzle and promptly issued for cool water to make itself known. Eiri was beginning to get light-headed from what he surmised to be the heat of the shower. The last thing we wanted was to pass out and crack his head open to only be found naked and dead in a puddle of his own blood when Shuichi came home.

            Ah, and there it was again – the thought of Shuichi. 

            Over these past few weeks Eiri had begun to realize something rather interesting, and highly distracting: in three simple steps he could relate _anything_ to the pink-haired man. 

            Of course, the blonde had tried to prove himself wrong. He would scan through his mind, the internet, food stores, and everyplace he could find, just so he would prove that theory to be false. He never succeeded, however.

            And now, with the cooling shower water beating on his heated skin, Eiri didn't need three steps to have his mind drift to the vocalist. It was painfully obvious where his thoughts were heading.

            There, another reason why he missed Shuichi. The younger man was young, constantly on a sugar high, and playful. Eiri felt the corner of his lip twitch. And Shuichi was _always_ submissive. 

            Even before the man with pink tresses had left, Eiri knew that he took Shuichi's willingness for granted. If the writer told the boy to get down on his knees, Shuichi would do so obligingly. If Eiri told the singer to spread 'em wide, then Shuichi would comply with no utterances; except, of course, a delighted moan or cry here and there. 

            Before the lion-eyed novelist had realized it, his back was pressed against the slick tile wall behind him and his bottom lip between his teeth. He gnawed pensively on his lip, recalling all the sweet arches and whimpers Shuichi would deliver when Eiri paid especially close attention to that succulent pink pout. Maybe if the writer thought about the boy hard enough, then…

            Eiri swallowed hard, palms pressed flat against the wall behind him. His nipples were already tingling from the pulsating shower head. Gods, how he loved to flick his tongue over Shuichi's pert little nubs…

            The water throbbed at Eiri's hips now, since the writer was plastered against the far wall of the tub. He was aching with something fierce in his loins, and the thought of Shuichi's flesh against his tongue, or even the other way around, wasn't helping in the least. He shifted uncomfortably against the hard tile behind him, causing the water to hit him in just the right spot.

            Eiri let out a small, breathy moan. His member was awakening fully now, and the writer's hands were clawing at the grooves in the tile. His hips lifted off the wall by their own accord, trying to press against a non-existing force. He needed something, _anything_, to press up against. No, he needed something to press up _into_.

            Eiri's eyes clenched closed tightly. Over the time in which Shuichi had left, Eiri had become further and further acquainted with his own fingers. However, his own two hands could only do so much to relieve the aching in his groin.

He desperately tried to conjure the image of his paramour in front of him. If he could just believe that the singer was there before him, equally naked, equally wet, then just maybe…

            _"Ne, Yuki…" Shuichi cooed teasingly. The boy's feet padded along the wet shower floor. "Did you miss me?"_

_            The novelist growled deep in this throat. He instinctively curled an arm around Shuichi's lithe waist, pressing the younger man close. Eiri kissed him with an almost bruising force which made the singer sigh and push his hips against the blonde's own._

_            "I'll take that as a yes," Shuichi managed breathlessly when the kiss had been broken. _

_            Eiri might have responded if his voice didn't seem to be caught in his throat. Although, he might not have bothered either way, for the sensation of the two men's throbbing erections was enough to blow away any semi-coherent thought._

            The novelist's hands were sliding down his wet abdomen now. He tossed his head to the side, biting down harshly on his lip.

            _"Ahh!" the pink-coifed man whimpered. Eiri's canines were tugging tantalizingly along Shuichi's swollen lips. "Y-yuki…"_

_            "Tell me," Eiri hissed, golden tresses brushing along the tip of Shuichi's nose. "Tell me what you want…"_

_            "Yu—"_

_            The vocalist cut himself off in a deep moan when the older man's hands reached between their water-slicked bodies. Eiri squeezed and thrust their burning erections together, causing both of them to release a cry. _

_            "Tell me," Eiri droned again, his tongue lapping along Shuichi's collar bone. This was almost too hot to handle… Though maybe that was because the boy had turned the steaming water back on._

_            "You." Shuichi's hard-on twitched painfully against Eiri's own. "I want you, all of you." He was whimpering, now. His hands clung desperately to the back his voyaging lover's head, pushing him down further. Eiri's lips teased the boy's nipple. "Please…"_

            Eiri slid down the length of the shower wall, groaning softly. He shoved his back against the wall and bucked his hips off the ceramic floor. He swung his head back with a sick, but barely felt, thud. 

            Both of his hands were between his legs now, stroking, pumping, clenching. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as streams of water coursed along his trembling form. It was almost painful.

_            "Oh, Gods, Yuki…!" Shuichi cried, throwing his head back. "Please…!"_

_            Eiri was behind his lover now, who was nearly doubled-over in writhing ecstasy. Shuichi's hands were slammed against the slippery wall as he pressed his rear backwards, begging to be filled. Eiri's penis twitched in sympathy._

_            The author leaned over Shuichi's pleading form, his nipples brushing along the singer's back. Eiri bit back a moan. _

_            "Tell me exactly what you want…" the older man whispered huskily in Shuichi's ear. His voice was barely audible over the pounding water and the younger man's eager whimpers. "I want to hear you say it."_

_            "Please, Yuki…!" Shuichi was panting heavily. He reached a shaky hand between his legs, trying to relieve himself of the torture._

_            "'Please' what?" Eiri breathed. His hands slid along the boy's stretched torso. _

_            "I want you…" He was pumping himself now. "I _need_ you." The moans were coming faster._

_            Eiri could have sworn he was going to explode just watching the jerking singer._

            His hands were doing all the right things, finding all the right spots. Between his teenage years of needing a sexual release and having no one to help him, Eiri had learned how to touch himself in just the precise way. 

            No, this was better, _way_ better, then whacking off over a toilet before his father found him. This wasn't just his hands stroking the spots he knew best, it was _Shuichi's _hands stroking the spots _Shuichi_ knew best.

            And as odd as it may be, the pink man knew Eiri's erogenous zones better then the writer did himself. But he wasn't complaining.

            Now, though, the pumps were becoming more erratic. Eiri's chest rose and fell heavily in a scattered pace of near hyperventilation. His legs were bent at the knees and he was straining his whole body against all the walls around him. 

            Why did he have this sudden yearning to be open? a yearning to be… filled?

            _"Yuki, please!!"__ Shuichi twisted his head back to gaze at his lover with lust-clouded eyes. "I need you… inside me…"_

_            Eiri's eyes fell hungrily to Shuichi's rump, which the singer was pushing up and back in a plea of its own. The boy's hand had left his throbbing member and was now scratching expectantly at his opening. Eiri's fingers curled into Shuichi's hips harshly enough to leave small welts. _

_            "I think," the writer managed heavily, "I'll tease you for a bit longer…"_

_            "Oh, Gods…"_

_            He pushed his dripping golden bangs from his eyes, not wanting to miss a single centimeter of Shuichi's wet, creamy skin. Eiri's tongue darted out to lap greedily at the small of the moaning man's back while his fingers kneaded teasingly at Shuichi's bucked hips. _

_            "I can't take it, Yuki…"_

_            Eiri's lips let a hot trail of kisses down Shuichi's back, which were washed away by the streaming water. His hands slipped back to squeeze possessively at the singer's plump cheeks._

_            "Please, Yuki… I'm serious…!"_

_            The taller man's tongue dipped down into the crack of Shuichi's rear, pulling the younger man open with the fingers he had groped around the singer's behind. _

_            "I'm going to explode…"_

_            Eiri probed gently at the puckered rosebud of Shuichi's opening, causing the boy to jerk and cry out in a strangled voice._

_            "Yuki, do it…! Now!!"_

            Eiri's toes were curling, something they didn't do often. It was all almost too much. His chest was tight, his heart was pounding, and all the blood seemed to be rushing from his one head to the other.

            And yet that aching emptiness just kept growing…

            _Shuichi's lips parted in a scream, but no sound managed to surface its way past the boy's larynx. Eiri, however, did manage to cry out as his member thrust into Shuichi's beckoning destination. The singer's demands to be filled were all too eagerly obliged._

_            Shuichi moaned, whimpered, screamed, and jerked, all while begging and pleading for more. He wanted Eiri to go deeper, to slow down, to call his name, to pick up the pace, to hit that sweet spot that made him see stars…_

_            And Eiri did all those things with no complaints, and a few demands of his own. But when the writer hit the pink-haired man's prostate, all thoughts and all requests were lost. _

_            Shuichi's orgasm was announced in a deep guttural moan that had the fine hairs on Eiri's body standing on end. The vocalist clamped down tightly around the novelist's plunging erection, splaying his essence against the wall before him, his stomach, and both of the men's hands._

_            As Eiri drove himself in Shuichi's hot canal one final time, he was sure he cried out some words that he'd be as embarrassed as hell to hear again. But the thought wouldn't come until later, for he was spilling his seed into Shuichi's tight body with fireworks bursting in Eiri's mind's eye._

Eiri expelled his air in one heavy whoosh, only noticing once had had let it go that he had even been holding his breath in the first place. His lungs screamed in protest, but the pain was lost over all the waves of endorphins that were washing over Eiri's trembling, prone form. 

            The amber-eyed man didn't move for a few minutes, too wasted to even consider such an action. However, the hot water had long since run out and he felt as if he was being pelted with hail. 

            Reluctantly opening his eyes, Eiri looked down at his current condition.

            His legs were spread as wide as they could be in the four foot wide bathtub. Eiri's semen had splattered all along his left hand, which still rested limply at his flaccid member. His right hand, however…

            Eiri's eyes narrowed. Without moving any other body part, his eyes skittered to the bottle of strawberry shampoo that Shuichi used, which was open and at the writer's feet. At which level in his euphoric state Eiri had managed to grab the bottle was beyond him. 

However, the fact that was bothering him the most was the tightness around two of the fingers on his right hand, and the pleasure and pain mixture between his legs.

            He hadn't… had he?

            Eiri quickly withdrew both his hands from his inner thighs. He winced softly at the suctioning pop his entrance made when his fingers withdrew from inside him.

            His golden eyes stared incredulously at the digits. They were coated in strawberry shampoo, water, sweat, and sex.

            His canal was straining against the lack of intrusion, and Eiri couldn't help but admit that the pleasure was still lingering.

            Perhaps he had thought of Shuichi a little too hard…

            Eiri sighed wearily and let his head fall back. Suddenly the pounding, chilled water didn't seem that bad.

            And on day seventeen, Eiri succumbed to his own damn right hand.

**Author's Notes: ***big grin* I like this story. *nods*

^____^ 

Please review? Hehe.


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